


claims us all

by vehlr



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Multi, death everywhere, seriously look okay I am the worst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7651045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehlr/pseuds/vehlr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of passings, one by one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. keyleth

**Author's Note:**

> There was a death meme on Tumblr. Stuff happened.
> 
> I REGRET SOME THINGS.

**Slam. Slam. Slam.**

Grog’s fists are slick with blood, but he does not stop.

**Slam. Slam. Slam.**

“Grog?”

**Slam. Slam. Slam.**

“Grog, it’s… it’s alright.”

**Slam. Slam. Slam. Sla-**

The lightest touch of Pike’s hand clears through the haze, and the rage subsides. Grog stares down at the pulp of meat that had once been a person, before blinking.

“Pike?”

She looks up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “It’s okay. It’s… it’s over, Grog. You got him good.”

He swallows, nodding mutely as his hands drop, the blood dripping from them. “He hurt Keyleth,” he says quietly.

“Yeah. He did.”

They look across the field towards the rest of the group. Keyleth’s slight form is held tightly by Vax, unmoving and pale underneath the blood, the sound of Vex’s sobbing audible even from here.

“Pike?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s over, isn’t it?”

She reaches up to hold his hand. “... yeah.”


	2. scanlan

_Vax – six paces away, quick and strong. Vex – twenty paces, behind Trinket, untouched. Grog – fourteen paces, bloodied but exactly how he wanted to be._

Pike twirls the morningstar in her hand, a grim smile on her lips. They had a strange rhythm to them, but she could always keep time as long as they stuck to their strengths. The only person foolish enough to play the hero was usually Vax, and for once he kept pace with Keyleth’s strides, a shadow to the druid’s elemental attacks.

_Keyleth – seven paces, rock and stone. Percy – out of sight, but she could hear the gunshots. He would be fine. Tiberius – twelve, snarling but untouched._

From behind her, she feels the rush of air as a giant purple hand whooshes past her, holding one of the goblins aloft, and she suppresses the urge to roll her eyes as Scanlan’s voice rings out.

“Not _my_ girl, you -”

There is a strange crunching noise, and she whirls around to find him spluttering as a sharp short dirk sticks out from his chest.

“No!”

Vax is behind him in an instant, the two goblins dispatched with ease. Scanlan crumples, and she cries out, rushing to his side – _eight, too many steps, too many_ – and curling a hand around his cheek.

“Stupid – you’re so _stupid_ , look at me, stay with me, I’ve got you -”

Scanlan’s lips shake as they twist into a smile. “Huh.”

“What?”

“I saved you. How ‘bout that?”

“Idiot,” she whispers, “I have better armour than you. Stay with me, I need to get the reagents.”

She rummages in the pouch at her waist, a hissed curse under her breath.

His eyes shift slightly, and there is a quiet exhale.

“Scanlan?”

Around them, everything falls eerily quiet.

She swallows. “Scanlan, stay with me. I’m here.”

She brushes a thumb over his cheek, looking for the spark in his gaze.

“Scanlan, please,” she whispers. “ _Please_. Don’t leave me.”

But there is nothing of the gnome left in his eyes, nothing of the foolish brave friend she had been too slow to save.


	3. twins

Battles never end smoothly, but as Keyleth slides across the dirt, coming to rest at Vax’s side, she thinks this one is particularly bad. His innards are mostly out, the floor slick with blood.

“My sister -” He grasps at Keyleth’s arm. “My sister -”

Keyleth swallows, nodding. “She’s alright. Pike is with her now. Just – just hold on, Vax. She’ll be with you in a second.”

Vax manages a grimace of a smile, teeth bloody. “She’s alright?”

She glances over to where Vex lies. Pike is crying. Keyleth can hear her soft sobs, can hear Percy’s shaking voice as he tries to reassure her. _Oh, Vex._

She settles on a lie.

“Of course she is. She’s trying to fight Pike,” she offers with a weak smile, “trying to get her to heal you first.”

His laughter is more of a splutter. “S'my sister for you.”

“Hold on. Hold on, okay? She’s coming over as soon as she can.”

“It hurts.”

“I know, Vax. I know.” But her own healing magics are exhausted,the only comfort she can offer in false words.

“Kiki.” His voice is thready. “M'glad you’re here.”

She swallows, smiling again as the tears begin to fall. “Then stay with me.”

“I’ll do my - my best.” He takes in a long inhale, and she hears something in his chest shakes. “Please. Is my sister alright?”

She strokes his hair gently, nodding. “She’s coming.”

Vax smiles, something in his expression relaxing finally. “I can hear her.”

Keyleth glances up as Percy drapes his coat over Vex. “She’s coming. She’s coming right now.”

Vax’s eyes are glassy, unfocused. His skin is deathly pale. He is leaving them, and there is nothing she can do. “K-Kiki -”

“She’s coming, I promise.”

And then, strangely, he smiles. “ _Vex_.”

“She’s here. She’s right here.”  Her voice is a whisper, fingers clinging around his cloak. “She’s here, Vax. It’s alright.”

It is right, she would think later, that Vax'ildan and Vex'ahlia left this world the same way they entered it – together.


	4. percy

The Wasting sweeps through Emon in days, the effects lasting for weeks. Vox Machina do their best to help the people, but - somewhat inevitably, Vex thinks - it does not take long for one of their own to fall victim to the mysterious illness.

Percy is bedbound for a fortnight, alternating between feverish sleep and vomiting for the first week. The second is spent in a silence that settles over the entire keep, and leaves even the optimistic Pike in a saddened mood.

It is wretched, and Vex is _tired_ of it.

“You need to get better now,” she announces, marching into his room. “This is getting tedious, and -”

Percy smiles up at her from the bed, and for the first time in two weeks Vex sees just what the Wasting means. He had always been _thin_ , but she rather thinks she can see the outline of his skull - sunken eyes and translucent skin and a dullness that makes her heart ache.

“You look awful,” she says slowly. “Are you… are you alright?”

“Vex’ahlia,” he murmurs softly, “it _hurts_.”

“Oh,” she breathes, crawling onto the bed and curling into his side. “Oh, Percy.”

“I thought I’d die at the hands of a beholder, or a dragon. But this sickness… it’s dragging me along, like a puppet. I just… I don’t like not being in control of this.”

He sounds so _done_. She swallows, realising just how bad it must be. Percy would have weighed the pros and cons, would have exhausted every avenue of thought. But there was no cure for this sickness. Not even Sarenrae’s light could tend to this ailment. Vex had hoped that he would be strong enough to pull through, but…

Her hand reaches up to traces lines over his heart. “I want you to stay,” she says thickly. “I want you to stay with me.”

“I know.” Lips press against her forehead weakly. “I want to stay, but not like this.”

“I am sorry, Percy. I’ve been so _selfish_ -”

Thin fingers lift her chin up, his smile crooked. “It’s part of your charm,” he teases.

“Is it so terrible? The pain?” She pulls away, wiping at her cheeks.

His smile fades. “Pike tries her best. Keyleth too. But… we saw how it affected the people in the Cloudtop District. It’s progressing that way.”

Vex swallows again. “And you want it to stop.”

“I do.”

“Truly?”

“ _Yes_.” It is the most passionate thing he has said in weeks, and she believes him.

“My brother… my brother has certain… vials. It would not hurt.”

“Vex -”

“I will be with you. Until the end.”

His hand reaches for hers weakly, lacing skeletal fingers between hers. “Vex,” he murmurs. “Thank you.”

She offers a sad smile. “Do you know that I love you?”

He nods. “Just as I love you.”

“Good.” She swallows, watching him smile and thinking of better days. “Good.”


	5. pike

Grog is good with colours, even through the haze of a rage. There is always a lot of red, naturally - he is quite proud of that fact - but he knows the other colours too. Today there is a lot of green as orcs fall under his mighty hammer blows. Green, red, green, green, red, white, red, green, green, red, _red, red, **red** -_

Vex’s hand on his back quells the rage, his eyesight fuzzy for a moment before everything comes back into focus.

“Did we win?” he asks brightly.

“No,” she says, a quaver to her voice that makes him stop and turn and look -

Pike is down.

His gut drops at the sight, his best friend - his kin, his chosen family - pallid and still and fragile. It does not suit her. She was a rock, not a delicate statue. And she was gone.

“They got ‘er,” he murmurs, a low rumble.

Vex takes in a sharp breath.

Vax and Keyleth are at Pike’s side, the former muttering under his breath - pleading, in truth - and the latter scrambling in her pouch for something that would no doubt be used to try and reverse this shit state of affairs. Neither of them will look at him.

Grog can smell burning.

“Oi.”

Vax looks up - and there it is, something in his eyes that Grog cannot place. It is unsettling.

“The orcs. Did they have hammers like mine?”

Vax shakes his head, watching as Keyleth steps away to find more things, her presence replaced by a distraught Scanlan.

“Huh.” Grog scratches his beard. “S’weird. Only that looks like - y’know, when I hit someone with my hammer. All burned and shit.”

Scanlan looks angry - the sort of anger Grog had only seen once before. It feels _bad_ , like he is somehow angry at Grog.

“Must have been an enchantment,” he says finally.

“Right,” agrees Vax slowly. “Must have been. Bastards.”

Grog grunts. “We got ‘em good. Won’t be hurting anyone else. And Keyleth has that ritual -”

“Right,” says Scanlan abruptly. “Because _that’s_ never backfired on us.”

“Scanlan -”

“Don’t. Just… just _don’t_.” He shakes his head, not meeting Vax’s eyes. “This is all shit. I can’t - I can’t do this again.”

Grog leans over, looking serious. “Scanlan. S’alright. We’ll get her back.”

That anger is back, a cold brittle anger that feels like the misstep when your feet expect solid ground beneath them. “I’m going to help Keyleth,” the gnome eventually says.

“No need,” Percy says, every word exhausted. “She needs rest before she can complete the spell. In the morning, she’ll need all of us.”

“Grog, take watch with Trinket. Everyone else, get some sleep. We’ll have her back in the morning.” Vax stretches his arms high above his head, but does not move from Pike’s side. Grog cannot blame him - he would rather stay here too - but he would watch over them all, and as Vex makes a fire he tromps out a little ways to keep a weather eye on the edge of the wood.

In the night, most of them sleep - all but one, the small form of his friend mourning over Pike’s too-still body. Grog frowns as Scanlan’s words carry in the quiet night, their meaning lost to him.

“I didn’t tell him. I won’t _ever_ tell him. I’ll keep that secret as long as you want me to. Just… come back to me.”


	6. grog

It is lonely, being a survivor.

*

Percy had been the first to go - struck down with a sickness that he could not shake. It had terrified them all, but none more than Pike. She had been inconsolable for days - that was the word Vex had used. Grog supposed it had meant sad, what with all the crying she had done. He did not like it, did not know how to stop her.

Eventually, it had passed.

And then so did the others.

*

He falls in the snow, grunting. He is a goliath, but time catches up with even the strongest of them.

He is alone. He does not know how long it has been - more numbers than he knows. But he _has_ to get to Whitestone. He _has_ to get to the memorial. They would be waiting for him.

*

Keyleth and Vax and Vex had fallen in battle. It had been a bad day for all of them, but none more than Pike. She had not cried, had not wailed for days. No, she had simply fled, the hurt too deep for her to bear. Grog was the one who had found her, bowed at the altar of her goddess begging for reason, pleading for answers.

It never quite passed, not until she did.

It was a cold day, he remembers that. The biting cold that affected even him, and her blood bright red against the snow. She had smiled, and he had wept, and the memorial had claimed one more name. Grog and Scanlan had gotten obliterated on ale for nearly a week, mourning the best of their strange little trio. Scanlan never recovered, not truly, and when the cold took him too, Grog was not surprised.

What did surprise him was how heavy the silence of being alone was.

*

The snow has finally stopped, but his steps are still slow, dragging against the ground. He has been alone for so long -

“Grog?”

He looks up at the memorial. A glowing form smiles back, an achingly familiar form that he has not seen in years..

“ _Pike_ ,” he whispers.

“Hey, buddy.” She reaches out for his hand. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

And he can see, now, beyond her - all of them, his family, smiling just like he remembers. Percy is whole and hale, the twins are laughing, Keyleth is happy, Scanlan’s smile is wry. They are together and waiting for him, just as he knew they would be.

Grog smiles, reaching out for Pike’s hand -

*

Cassandra de Rolo finds the body of the goliath in the snow, arm stretched out towards the memorial for Vox Machina. Sinking to her knees, she takes a shaky breath, waving the guards away. This moment was sacred - the final passing of Vox Machina, the saviours of Whitestone and the world at large.

For a brief moment, she allows herself a small smile. At least they were together again.


	7. BONUS ROUND

Vox Machina is fast. He knows they are not fast _enough_.

A horde of goblins are gaining on them, and his friends – his family, the only family he has ever known – are injured and too slow. They need a miracle. They need time.

He skids to a halt, turning to stare the enemy down. Around him, only a few of the party stop.

“What is he doing?” Vex reaches out to touch his shoulder. “Hey. Come on, we need to go.”

He shrugs her off, brow deep. “No,” he growls.

“I think…” Scanlan’s voice is quiet. “I think he’s staying to fight. To let us get away.”

“What? No! No, you can’t – you _can’t!_ ”

She is crying. He hates to see her so, hates that this will hurt her, but he cannot watch her die. He was put on this earth to protect her, he knows that in his heart. Pressing his face up to hers, he savours the feel for a moment before pulling away, facing the masses before them.

“No – no no no _no_ -” Vex reaches for him, but Grog picks her up bodily, unmindful of her screams as he breaks into a run with her in his arms.

“Look after her,” he grunts, and Keyleth nods, reaching out to brush his cheek. “Tell her I love her. Tell her I was good.”

“The best,” she whispers. “Thank you.”

Scanlan, of all of them, lingers last.

“I’m sorry for all the times I doubted you.” The gnome looks distraught. “I’ll tell so many tales of your bravery, I promise.”

He grunts again, offering a nod. “Go,” he growls, offering only a brief nod as the druid drags the bard back. The goblins are visible now, individuals wielding haphazard weaponry.

Trinket bolsters his stance, immovable as the onslaught comes. He would buy them time. He could do that.

He was a good bear, after all.


End file.
